


When the Demon Shows, I Won't Make Your Pride Hurt

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out Conversations, F/F, Gen, Post-Season/Series 01, Sisterly Gossip, We deserved this in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 05:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Waverly’s bashful when Wynonna asks about Nicole, she’s always sort of been that way when discussing love. Before, though, it had been because she was embarrassed to discuss her relationships— Champ, for example, she can’t pretend she was ever with out of anything but a compulsive sense of necessity— or because she was sure she’d be broken up with soon enough, already anticipating the awkwardness of the end. But now, she’s content, practically honored with the catch that is Nicole Haught, that is her Nicole Haught, and she’s not used to talking about her relationships with so much pride, quite literally.Wynonna laughs, then hesitantly, clearly not wanting to push her, says, “can I ask you...about it?”





	When the Demon Shows, I Won't Make Your Pride Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I loved Wynonna's nonchalance about Waverly and Nicole's relationship (that's how it should be in real life, people, sexuality doesn't always have to be a huge deal!) in 1x13 and onwards, I've always imagined a conversation between them where they explored the gossipy nature of sisterhood. I think there was so much to be explored in canon in how Wynonna felt on missing out and being oblivious about this crucial part of her sister's life, as well as Waverly's own personal journey she handled pretty much all on her own. As most things I write, this became a bit more angsty than I originally intended, but I hope it carries the sentiment and comedy that I also tried hard to convey.
> 
> Title comes (loosely) from the song "My House Is Your Home" by Jack Garratt.

Waverly’s exhausted, but she can’t sleep. She doesn’t know how to, not after everything that’s happened. It’s not the kind of restlessness that makes her angry and frustrated — although she’s rather familiar with that kind— but rather she’s becoming more and more reflective with every passing minute. Her bed is comfortable, but not enough for her to sink into it and be able to enjoy it, so she lays on her back, knees up, and tries to focus on the feeling of her breathing underneath her hands that rest on her ribcage. She’s here, she’s alive, she’s breathing, she’s okay.

She isn’t happy, but she isn’t sad. She isn’t upset, but she isn’t satisfied. She thinks she should be one or the other, black or white, but her life has never been that simple; there has always been gray areas, in nearly every area of her life that mattered. Why did she expect this to be any different?

_ I’ve been through enough,  _ she thinks for a brief second, closing her eyes, but then stops before the thought can sink in any further. She’s never had time for guilt, always been too busy moving onto the next hurdle to be able to look back and regret, fully, as she admittedly wants to sometimes. She pushes the thoughts away, cancels the pity party, cleans her room bare of any memories, cuts her hair and finds a new hobby. It’s what she’s always done, it’s what she’ll do now. 

It’s hard to forget the sound of a gunshot though, the scream that escaped her girlfriend’s mouth as she fell to the floor in the police station, and the lurch of her own heart as she ran to her side, sure to find blood and tears and her love, her  _ Nicole _ fading away.

When she found the exact opposite, it was the closest thing she’d ever felt to a miracle in her life. She doesn’t think Nicole heard her when she told Wynonna she loved her, but she knows she meant it. Waverly’s never felt happiness or attraction like this, not in the way where her whole soul feels rejuvenated and renewed, and she thinks maybe she can move on from the past. Or, she thought so.

But then Willa came back and then Willa shot Nicole and then Wynonna shot Willa and now she can’t sleep. 

Still, she thinks of Nicole, alive and safe in her own bed, not too far away , and she thinks she still has a lot to be grateful for. She wishes she was here, all softness and lavender warmth against her side, but it’s all been too much for everyone and they all needed their own beds, at least for tonight. She hopes Nicole is sleeping, isn’t awake and deep in thought like she is.

She tries not to think about Willa. How can she? The sister that never loved her, the sister that Waverly spent most of her life thinking was dead comes back, betrays her, and now she’s dead, presumably for real this time. It’s a brutally blatant way to phrase the situation, but nothing else sits right. It’s the truth. She’s spent most of her life thinking Willa was gone, she can continue on knowing that for real now. 

She gets a sour taste in her mouth when she thinks about it, though, and knows she can’t forget that easy; she especially can’t forgive that easy.

She’s not heartless. Never has been, never will be. She can’t be. She’s the exact opposite and maybe that’s what’s so hard about it— Willa didn’t care how good she was, not for herself or for others, but she was an Earp. Cold-hearted, selfish, independent and rough, she was unapologetically an Earp.

That may be the worst part of it all. Waverly will think about anything and everything but Bobo and what he said. It’s too soon in the aftermath, too late at night, and she knows soon enough she’ll have to face it, but not now. Her life as she knows it has already taken a few too many blows, the dust needs to settle before she can bring herself to find out anything more.

She hears Wynonna downstairs and a rush of relief runs through her at not being the only one awake. She doesn’t know what time it is, doesn’t check because it doesn’t matter. They’re sleeping in, patching wounds and healing bruises all day tomorrow, and then they’ll start again at some point. They have to.

    “Hey,” Waverly says once she reaches the doorway of the living room. Wynonna’s on the couch, staring at the dwindling fire in the dark, and without invitation she sits next to her, as close as she can without being invasive. She looks so sad, so alone, and it’s honest to god nothing new, which makes it even worse. The memories of happiness from their childhood are few and far between, and with every lingering look at her sister’s tear stained cheeks, they’re fading.   

    “Can’t sleep?” Wynonna asks, and Waverly nods as she leans into her shoulder. 

    “Not a chance,” Waverly replies. “Too much to think about.”

Wynonna scoffs, so quiet it’s almost to herself. “That’s an understatement.”

It’s quiet, relaxing and depressing at once, and without reasoning Waverly says, “I’m sorry.”

Wynonna tips her chin to peer down at her. “For what?”

She shrugs. “All of it. Willa, Dolls, me, Nicole, Daddy, Mama, Gus...all of it. Nothing has ever been easy.”

Wynonna smoothes her hair back, presses a kiss to the top of her head for a long, lingering few seconds. “None of it is your fault, Waves. Don’t think that.”

    “Well, it’s not your fault either.”

Wynonna lets out another harsh laugh. “Debatable,” she says dismissively, and keeps running her fingers through her hair. It brings Waverly back to when she was younger, reminiscent of the familiarity of her sister’s touch whenever she was awoken from a nightmare or sick with the stomach flu or simply tired while watching a movie. 

Waverly doesn’t push her on the subject, even though she thinks if she had one wish it would be for Wynonna to forgive herself. She doesn’t know if anything will ever make her feel like she’s not at fault for all the tragedy that has occurred to them, but she’ll pray to whatever god saved Nicole to give Wynonna some happiness someday.

    “How long have you and Nicole been together?” Wynonna asks after a period of quiet, and the question surprises Waverly because there’s absolutely no hint of judgment or condescension in it. 

Waverly chews the inside of her cheek, thinking. Time has been strange lately; days with Nicole sped by, nights with Willa were filled with awkward silences that felt days long, and the past twenty four hours have replayed in her mind so much she can’t even recall what happened when.

    “A few weeks,” Waverly replies. “Three or four, I think, depending on what day today is because I literally can’t remember.”

Waverly’s bashful, she’s always sort of been that way when discussing love. Before, though, it had been because she was embarrassed to discuss her relationships— Champ, for example, she can’t pretend she was ever with out of anything but a compulsive sense of necessity— or because she was sure she’d be broken up with soon enough, already anticipating the awkwardness of the end. But now, she’s content, practically honored with the catch that is Nicole Haught, that is  _ her  _ Nicole Haught, and she’s not used to talking about her relationships with so much pride, quite literally.

Wynonna laughs, then hesitantly, clearly not wanting to push her, says, “ can I ask you...about it?”

    “Of course.” Waverly is earnest, and she’s surprised how much she actually wants to talk about it, how much she  _ needed  _ to talk about it and wasn’t able to. She thinks of her flustered, blubbering self in front of the police station, next to tall, gorgeous Nicole and too caught up in her to even recognize that the conversation wasn’t going the way she’d envisioned it to the countless times she imagined it in her head. She’d needed someone to vent to, to help her examine her feelings and understand herself until there was no fear left, and she thinks Wynonna can sense that she missed out on being there for that.

    “Okay, good,” Wynonna says. “I really thought we were getting closer but I completely missed this.”

Waverly smiles sadly, reaching out to take her hand again. “I completely missed you and Doc, so it’s fine.”

Wynonna scoffs. “That was nothing, we were just hooking up! Dating is a much different story. Besides, that’s over now anyways.”

    “Alright, well, don’t feel bad about not figuring out about me and Nicole earlier. I wanted to tell you on my own terms, so not when she was at gunpoint, but there was never really a good time.”

    “There never is,” Wynonna comments, “especially not in Purgatory. But I’m sorry, baby girl.”

Waverly just gives her a sad sort of smile. “Don’t be.”

There’s something in her eyes that’s longing for comfort, for gossip, for sisterly secret sharing that’s long overdue. Wynonna sees it and it stings, because she wants to be better, wants to be present and involved and informed, but there just hasn’t been any time.

    “So, how’d this happen?” Wynonna finally asks, turning her body to give Waverly her full attention. “I want to know the details.”

She blushes, biting her lip, and can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. “She walked into Shorty’s and just...flirted with me. She talked to me like she knew me, even though we were just meeting, and she looked at me like I was the only person in the room. I mean, I was, but...you know what I mean.”

Wynonna smiles at her — really smiles— and Waverly almost forgets about the bullet in her other sister, the bullet that was so close to being in her girlfriend, the bullet that grazed her own ribs mere days ago.  _ Almost.  _ She doesn’t think some memories will ever leave her. 

    “You’re living a Nicholas Sparks novel,” Wynonna says, and it should be a joke, but when her eyes meet hers, they’re serious, suddenly bright. “It’s what you deserve, especially after years of dating Chump.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “God, I know. I was so ready to be done with him, for years. Honestly, Wyn, but you know how Purgatory is. It never seemed like I was getting out.”

    “Yeah, limited dating options. That’s what you always said, but I guess not anymore,” Wynonna’s voice lifts up at the end, sing-songy and teasing, and she grins. 

Waverly can’t help but smile too. “I mean, I think I always kind of knew...my gaze would linger on pretty girls for longer than average but I didn’t question it, especially because Champ was always available and so I would just take what I could get.”

Wynonna makes a nauseated coughing sound, and Waverly laughs, shoving her away before leaning on her side when she falls back towards her. “I know, I know.”

Wynonna brushes her hair back, mussed from the couch pillows, and she’s serious again. “But really, you always knew you liked girls and I never noticed? It didn’t have to be a big deal, and it seems like you didn’t want it to be, which is completely fine and understandable but...ugh, I’m sorry Waves. I really am.”

Waverly shakes her head. “Please, don’t be. It was one of those things that I knew but I didn’t, at the same time, if that makes any sense? That...attraction was always there, almost in my subconscious, but something about Nicole instantly made me have to face it.”

    “Twenty one years of Purgatory’s discreet but never-fading homophobia,” Wynonna comments darkly, before turning to face Waverly directly. “If anyone pulls any shit on you, even just a glance or muttered slur, you tell me and I’ll make them regret it. Okay?”

Waverly has to bite down a smile as she takes Wynonna’s hands, smoothing her thumbs across the backs of her hands, calming her down. Speaking it all out loud into existence, letting thoughts, feelings and secrets be free leaves her giddy, just as it did whenever they’d gossip about boys in their younger years — although they did have varying tastes. This is the first time she’s explained it in such detail to anyone besides Nicole, and it’s filled with a completely different kind of butterflies. Wynonna’s protectiveness is fierce and honest, and as much as she doesn’t want her punching civilians for reasons that could simply be ignored, she relishes in the safety. Wynonna has her back, and she always will. 

    “I don’t think you’ll have to, I can stand up for myself,” Waverly says, coaxing her down. “Besides, you didn’t see Nicole knock out Champ at the Wainwright. I’m in good hands.”

Wynonna’s mouth falls open. “Holy shit, I’m going to hack their security cameras and put that on a loop to watch for the rest of my entire life. No way.”

Waverly slips into her side for a hug, still grinning. “It was pretty great.”

It’s quiet for a brief moment, and Waverly reflects, as she always does, in the silence. She’s so worn out that she’s amazed she’s still functioning, especially at the level of physical and emotional exhaustion she’s facing, but she thinks she’d stay up as long as it took for her to see Wynonna happy. Glimmers of normalcy, of joy and jokes and laughter, this is what they deserve. There’s determination for success hidden somewhere under her voiceless pleas for a better day— hell, even a better hour, a better moment, like the one they just had— and Waverly hopes Wynonna feels some of it too. They need to be stronger, now more than ever, especially for each other. And they need to break this curse.  

    “But I’m here to protect you, too, always,” Wynonna says, and there’s a sense of finality in her voice, like she’s ready to retire the conversation, and then the night. “You know that.”

    “I know,” Waverly says immediately in response, and she does know. But something about Wynonna’s words makes her feel almost guilty; she’s always wanted to protect her, and now Nicole swoops in, un-battered and without decades of tragedy on her back, doing the job with far less struggle and much more grace than Wynonna’s ever had, at least in the conventional sense. 

    “I know,” Waverly says again, “and I can’t imagine where I’d be without you.”

Wynonna scoffs before standing up and stretching, then letting out a loud yawn. “Probably better off.”

    “Wynonna—” Waverly starts, but before she can even spit out the words she wants to say—  _ that’s not true, please don’t think that, you’ve saved me so many times I can’t even keep count— _  her sister cuts her off with a hug, enveloping her in her arms, warm and smelling faintly of charcoal and burnt wood. 

    “I love you, Waves,” Wynonna says. She kisses the side of her head, smooths the static of her hair down once she pulls away, and Waverly notices how tired she looks in that moment. It makes her never want to leave her arms, to be the big sister for once and be the one taking care of her, because they both know how the roles are overdue to switch, even just briefly, after everything they’ve been through. 

    “I love you, too,” Waverly says, and she’s suddenly emotional again, partly due to how overtired she is and the sudden realization that she isn’t angry at Wynonna anymore, not at all. Not for being too weak to stop the revenants from taking Willa, not from shooting Daddy, not for being the heir, not for leaving. All she wants is for everything to be okay. Not back to normal, because they’ll never get that, but okay. Okay is something they can shoot for. 

    “Come sleep with me if you need to,” Wynonna calls from down the hall once Waverly’s behind her own door. She’s only half-joking, and they both know that. 

Now, though, Waverly thinks she might be able to sleep without dreaming, without having nightmares, without needing to be with anyone else. Wynonna’s just down the hall, and Nicole’s less than ten miles away, and Doc never sleeps without his gun on his holster. As for Dolls...well, they’ll deal with finding him, and everything else they have to do, tomorrow. The sun is coming up, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to swing by my Tumblr under the same username with prompts, requests, or simply just to scream at me about how excited you are for the season 3 trailer coming this week because I will most definitely scream back (in a good way, of course).


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